


Unconventional

by WakeUpDreaming



Series: Holidays 2017: I'm miserable but damn it I'll write! [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Future Fic, Hallmark Movies, Love, Nightmares, Pancakes, post-tartarus nightmares, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 13:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13008705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: Mornings haven't been the same for Percy and Annabeth since Tartarus.





	Unconventional

**Author's Note:**

> God I've missed these two.

Percy wakes up in a puddle of his own drool, something he doesn’t want to admit to anyone has happened more than once in his life. The room is dark and empty, the silence weighing the room down. It’s strange to be in his childhood bedroom, a place with holdovers from when he was twelve and thirteen and fourteen, old enough to know the dangers of the world but young enough to still think he could beat all of them.

He rubs his eyes and throws the dark blue comforter off of his legs. The bed is cold without her.

According to her mandated digital alarm clock it’s only three in the morning. Usually the nightmares don’t wake her up until five.

He navigates the darkness until he comes upon a curled up bundle on the couch, a mass of his sweatshirt and his sweatpants and a hat he thinks came from her father. “Hey.”

He wishes he had made more noise as he walked in. Annabeth jumps a foot and nearly falls off of the couch.

“Shh, Annabeth, it’s okay,” he says. “It’s just me.”

He thinks he can hear her heart beating from where she sits. She’s shivering.

“What was it this time?”

“I was blind,” she mumbles, “just like in…in…”

“I know,” he assures her. He waits until she reaches for him, not wanting to get too close too soon. He’s done that once before. It didn’t end well. “I know.”

She finally stands up and walks toward him. It’s automatic now – one of them loses it, the other one waits, the first one falls apart.

“I’ve got you,” Percy says, as he’s said a million times, as she’s told him a million more. “It’s okay.”

“I couldn’t see,” she whispers. “I could just – I could hear, and it was horrible.” She stops shivering. “It was hell, what they were doing to you. And I couldn’t stop them.” She makes a painful sound, like the dream being ripped from her. “It was hell.”

“It was,” Percy assures her. “It was. But it’s not anymore.”

He waits for her to speak again. He talks. She doesn’t as much as he usually does, letting out the very first words and then letting the others float in the air until the sunrise erases them. Percy talks and talks, New York accent becoming stronger and more powerful the more anxious he gets, and he only winds down when he’s told the story of the dream from dreadful start to agonizing finish.

When Annabeth relaxes, they end up drowsy on the couch, flipping through the channels.

“Wait!” Annabeth says. It’s the first word she’s said in forty-five minutes. “Go back.”

Percy stares at her, the artificial light from whatever infomercial is on right now coloring her face blue and eyes pale. “To the thing about foot massagers?”

She shakes her head and reaches for the remote. “This one.”

“The Hallmark channel?!” Percy exclaims. “Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“It’s stupid,” Annabeth argues, “but in the most awesome way ever. I don’t have to think when I watch this.”

“Okay, stupid is harsh,” Percy starts, “but I think I get your point. But it’s in the middle of the movie.”

“So?” Annabeth asks. “The whole point of it is to turn off your brain. So the lady is sewing a dress and it’s fancy. Awesome. Probably a princess.”

“I don’t think princesses sew their own dresses,” Percy muses.

Annabeth pokes him in the side. “You get my meaning.”

There’s something in the movie about a queen and a prince and some lady who seemed kind of rude, but the cute little girl who reminded Percy of his little sister made things a little more tolerable.

And then he realizes that Annabeth’s fallen back asleep on his shoulder. This time, she’s the one drooling.

He fights a smile as he settles back into the couch.

~

Percy doesn’t fall back to sleep, as the Hallmark movies just keep coming and holiday-themed commercials seem to be louder than normal ones. He’s memorized the jingle of one of the toy commercials by six in the morning, to the point where he’s actually considering getting it for Estelle when the sales start. It said three and older, but he’s always thought she was smart for her age.

“Which one of you?” Sally asks, Estelle on her hip. Percy, without words, points to Annabeth. Sally raises one eyebrow. “She asleep?”

Percy nods. “I was as surprised as you are.”

“G’mornin!” calls Estelle, sunny toddler voice spreading warmth like a sunrise.

“Annabeth is sleeping,” Percy whispers. He puts one finger up to his lips. “Shh.”

Estelle follows his gesture. “Ssssss.” Then she giggles. “I’m a snake.”

“You hungry?” Sally asks.

Percy shrugs.

“You’ll be hungry in a minute. I’m making holiday pancakes,” Sally says, and she and Estelle make their way to the kitchen.

It’s enough, though, to wake Annabeth, who barely moves when she says, “Coffee?”

Percy smiles and kisses the top of her head. “We’d have to get up.”

“No coffee, then,” Annabeth mumbles. She pulls the blanket over her shoulders, the one Percy had thrown over her some time in the night.

“Mom’s making Christmas pancakes,” Percy says.

“That any different from her normal ones?”

“They’re green and red instead of blue.”

Annabeth smiles with her eyes closed. “Yay.”

~

“Estelle, wait, don’t -”

Before Percy can catch her, his little sister divebombs Annabeth, landing on what he can only assume is her leg. He wouldn’t lie – he’s a little scared that Annabeth might react badly.

Instead, she mumbles, “Hi, Stels.” Doesn’t even open her eyes.

“Bethy, time for food. Mommy made pancakes and Daddy has coffee.”

Annabeth looks up at Percy. “If your big brother got me coffee, he’d win brownie points.”

Estelle’s eyes go wide. “We got brownies, too?”

“It’s a figure of speech, kiddo,” says Paul. “Daddy’ll tell you all about those once you’re old enough to understand the nuances of this English language. Also around when you stop saying ‘pasketti’ instead of ‘spaghetti.’”

“Pasketti,” Estelle tries. She frowns. “Oh, no.”

Percy gets Annabeth coffee, but the second he’s putting the bit of creamer in Annabeth walks into the kitchen. But there’s something still not quite set with her eyes, a little concern, a little lingering terror that worries him. She takes the coffee with two hands, sipping with her eyes locked on an empty space in the air.

Sally flips the last few pancakes onto a fifth plate. But when Percy sets it in front of her, Annabeth barely registers it. She’s in a state where Percy’s surprised she finds the seat on her own. There’s been times when Percy’s like this that he couldn’t even hear.

With a solemnity that doesn’t fit the holiday, they sit around the kitchen counter, Estelle on Paul’s hip while Annabeth and Sally take the bar stools. Percy decides to hover next to Annabeth, keeping a close eye on her. They’ve got a rule: if one needs to bail, they both bail. No matter what it is. They’ve missed the second half of movies, the middle and ends of parties, half their entrees at dinner. But they always survive. And they’re always okay.

Annabeth looks a little dazed as she eats. Every once in a while the bite of pancake makes its way into her mouth, but more likely than not she just drags it across the plate, raises it close to her mouth, and then it falls down again.

And then she gives him the look.

“I’m exhausted,” Percy says. “Anybody mind if we join you for Christmas a little later?”

Sally nods, and Percy wonders, not for the first time, if she can read Percy and Annabeth as well as the two of them can read each other. “Estelle, kiddo, want to go on the drive to look at Christmas lights early this year? There won’t be any traffic.”

Estelle lights up. “I’ll get the coats!”

Sally whisks them out in a whirl of coats and scarves and Estelle’s delighted giggles, and Percy just watches Annabeth as she stills like a statue. He knows she won’t move at all until the apartment is empty of all but the two of them.

Then, when the door finally closes, Annabeth runs to Percy and buries her face into his chest. He’s so glad he’s taller than her now, remembering that dance so many years ago when she was just an inch taller and she didn’t quite fit in his arms.

Now he feels best when he’s holding her.

She tilts her head up and kisses him, and he wants to take all of the nightmares away from both of them, just live in this feeling, this moment of the two of them forever.

Years and years later and she still sticks him to the floor like the first kiss.

And then, of course, she pulls away and yawns.

“Wow,” Percy deadpans, “glad to know my kiss is so invigorating.”

Annabeth laughs. “You make me feel safe. And safe means I get sleepy.”

They kiss a little more as they stumble into Percy’s bedroom, and Percy’s pretty sure both of them are half asleep as they curl up next to each other under the blankets, kisses lazy and endless.

“Hey, before you crash,” Percy murmurs against her lips. He’s not sure how awake he is right now, how awake she is, if he even actually said that out loud.

“Say it fast,” Annabeth mumbles, hardly intelligible.

“Merry Christmas, Wise Girl,” he says.

“Weird kind of Christmas,” she replies, “I freak out, we watch bad movies, and I fail at eating pancakes.”

“Not weird. Unconventional.”

“Nice fifty cent word.”

Percy presses one last kiss to her lips and lets himself fall into sleep. “I had a good SAT tutor.”


End file.
